A Matter of Circumstance
by Shiro
Summary: A short TemaShika fic, following the pair simultaneously until their paths cross.


She remembered the first time she had come here. Remembered how she had thought a certain dark-haired youth was cute, like every other girl who came in contact with him. Remembered how she never thought about him again, unlike every other girl who came in contact with him. She liked not following the crowd. Her sandals clacked against stone, and people turned to look at her, their faces registering surprise, fear, anger. Children were discreetly pushed into houses with only a loud 'shh!' in answer to their questions. She pretended not to notice.

He had nearly fallen asleep in the field he had frequented since he was a child. He always managed to fall asleep whenever he came here; it was a calm place filled with only the movement of clouds and the rustle of grass that was in desperate need of a trim. People walked by at the base of the hill, talking in hurried, whispered phrases loud enough that he could hear. He turned on his side and pretended to sleep.

No one outright challenged her presence in the village. She could have caused severe damage, if she wished, and the village was still reeling from the attack that had decimated them several months prior. She would have offered to help, if she knew they wouldn't reject her assistance. Not that she could blame them; it didn't really bother her.

The heavens warned of rain. Unable to sleep, he had rolled onto his back and was staring skyward. The fact that his friends had survived was still fresh in his mind. He blamed himself, yet he didn't feel motivated to truly _do_ anything about it. He thought of their smiles, their scowls, the times he had spent with them growing up, and wanted to lie in his field forever.

The sky was growing dark, but she wasn't in much of a hurry. Rain was rare in her homeland. She had passed the last of the residential houses some time ago, and couldn't think of a reason to keep moving. The apartment the Fifth had procured for her was back in the other direction. She shrugged, and the wind tugged at her clothes, drawing the ends of her sash away from her. She wondered, fleetingly, where her brothers were, and if they were safe. Sometimes, she disliked being the eldest.

A fat drop of rain hit his nose, but he refused to budge. He had been granted something of a vacation until he was healed enough in both mind and body to go on another mission, and he wanted to make the most of it. The clouds glowered, and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. He'd have counted the seconds if he hadn't thought it too much of a bother. Lightning streaked across the sky; the rain fell in sheets, as if a bucket had been suddenly upturned and poured down on the unsuspecting village. He stared up through the rain, and it plastered his hair to his forehead.

She regretted not having found shelter. The rain was as wet and uncomfortable as it was beautiful, and she hurried along the road, using her fan as a crude umbrella.

His father held an umbrella over his head, calling him home. It was a hassle to stand, and his clothes felt like soggy weights. His mother was worried, he was told, and he nodded. He didn't particularly care.

There were more buildings ahead. Whether they were residential houses, shops, or something else, she couldn't be certain. Hopefully the occupants of one would be willing to allow her shelter beneath their roof. She slowed to a walk, the fan already growing heavy despite how accustomed she had become to carrying its weight.

He had hardly been in the house for more than a few minutes, changing into dry clothes as his mother had purposefully instructed, before there was a faint rapping on the door. He had to answer, of course. His parents were too busy with other things, the way it always was. He padded to the door on bare feet, pulling a shirt over his head before swinging open the door.

The fan dropped, and she stood just outside the doorway, her hair sagging with water. His eyes registered surprise as he stared at her, and she smiled the toothy grin he had seen once before. Without a word, he opened the door further, and she stepped across the threshhold, leaning her fan against the side of the door frame as he closed the door. He padded back into the house; she pried off her sandals and followed.

"It's only until the rain lets up," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone. He shrugged, sitting down before a low table. Crossing his legs, he stared at the pieces scattered across the board, her presence forgotten. She tugged the elastics from her hair to let it dry. He picked up a piece and moved it across the board. There evidently _was_ no second player. Shifting, she inched around the other side, crossing her legs in a mimic of his own, and her eyes strayed across the board before she reached out to move a piece.

He glanced across at her over the pieces, in such a way that wouldn't be obvious to the casual eye. She watched the board with an acute sense of interest. Shaking his head, a smile alighted on his face ever-so-briefly, and he returned his attention to the game.

She glanced up at him and laughed, and he thought he'd never heard something sound so beautiful.


End file.
